everyday, I wake  
to the kind of dullness that doesn't go away
but ebbs and flows, and carries me
like a small, nearly-sunken boat
through these rooms with their tight walls.
all the while, I see nothingness,
and over the years
it has swallowed my body,
and here I am,
gazing out from within it at my surroundings,
unhappy and afraid,
but because I have sailed
for so long now,
I don't feel anymore

I am tired
of watching my legs move
and my fingers twitch
as if someone above me is holding me
by many strings
like a puppet, controlling me
so that I don't have to think;
I don't think

I sail blindly, I am held by strings.